


Galactic Porn Industry AU

by purplekitte



Category: Horus Heresy - Various Authors, Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Anal Fisting, Comedy, Dubious Consent, In Universe Fiction, Incest, M/M, Multiple Partners, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2019-09-15 07:57:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16929429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplekitte/pseuds/purplekitte
Summary: Why ask for tithes when people will just throw their money at you?





	1. Orbital Bombardment II

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Pimperium of Man](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11122611) by [UnderTheFridge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnderTheFridge/pseuds/UnderTheFridge). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Istvaan V... but as a porno

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emperor, Malcador, Fulgrim/Ferrus, Curze/Corax/Lorgar [R]

‘It needs something epic. It needs a stage to build the action on. Something we can write spin-offs and side-stories and tie-ins of.’

‘It needs a plot.’

‘Exactly, Malc, that’s what I said. Something like _Orbital Bombardment_ , but larger in scale.’

‘Should I call the Mournival back for more naked mud wrestling?’

‘No, no, no, that was small scale, small cast. Don’t bother with Tarvitz and Garro and Lucius. I want the focus on Fulgrim and Ferrus. I want Horus and Lorgar there, Mortarion and Vulkan and, oh, just anyone you can find.’

‘So you just want a primarch orgy?’

‘With plot!’

*

‘Ferrus!’ Fulgrim hissed into his ear, his hair mostly hiding his words from the cameras.

‘What?’

‘Did you even read the script?’

‘What of it?’ he asked between nips at Fulgrim’s lips.

‘You’re supposed to lose.’

‘Am I? But what about--’

‘That’s later. After I fuck you all limp and boneless and I’m worried I hurt you and almost give in to despair, you get to wrap me in your arms and make love to me.’

‘You get way too into this.’

‘I have to act for both of us.’

‘I always want you.’ But before Fulgrim could complain more about how they had to stick to the script Ferrus hadn’t read, he grinned and flipped them again so Fulgrim was pinned beneath him. ‘Fight better if you want to be on top.’

Fulgrim growled, but put his mouth to better use biting at Ferrus’ neck rather than talking. In the moment Ferrus saw stars at that, Fulgrim used his distraction to pivot his hips and send them tumbling again. Whatever the hell this movie was supposed to be about, he had Fulgrim’s knees digging into his thighs and there was nothing else he wanted more as he spread his legs wider for him.

*

Lorgar keened underneath Corax. His struggles were weak, just enough to make Corax keep holding him down, not those of someone who really wanted to escape. He pressed up for more, little noises filling Corax’s silence as Corax split him open again and again.

Then Curze was there, stroking Lorgar’s cheek. Lorgar looked up at him pleadingly, but Curze laughed. ‘You’re already getting held down and fucked the way you like. You love taking cock so much, you slut. Now help with this.’

Lorgar shifted position, not much but enough to change Corax pinning him to trapping Corax with him. They both groaned as the movement drew Corax deeper inside him, and Corax shivered as Curze ran a hand up his back.

‘There you go. You’re shaking like a leaf, little bird.’ He rested both hands on Corax’s shoulders above where Lorgar was holding him in place and leaned close to his ear. ‘Exactly how I want you. Just wait until I have you screaming for me.’

Curze sucked at Corax’s neck, then trailed his tongue down his spine. Curze’s hands kept his hips still as his tongue pressed inside him, keeping him fixed in place deep within Lorgar, who whimpered and writhed around him, desperate for friction. Finally, Corax moaned aloud, voice breaking with passion.


	2. A Thorn in My Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> snippet, Russ/Lion [R]

‘Ow,’ the Lion said with a slight flinch more of annoyance than pain. ‘No, it’s nothing. Just a rose. These thorns are sharper than a serpent’s tooth.’

‘There are an awful lot of roses.’ There were. They were strewn over the ground in a thick carpet, mostly of petals with a whole flower thrown in occasionally. Most of them had been stripped of their thorns, but not so carefully. Russ chuckled. ‘Looks like we’ve stumbled upon someone’s love-nest.’

‘No matter. Our duel awaits.’

‘I don’t know. I fancy the contrast over roses against your pale skin rather than blood.’

‘You’re assuming you would land a hit.’ Lion refused to look at him.

‘Are you truly still angry with me?’ Russ reached out a hand to run over the Lion’s soft hair, then drag his head against his shoulder. ‘My beloved shield-brother.’

‘Yes,’ the knight insisted in turn.

‘I know better ways to make it up to you than with swords.’ Russ worked his hands and mouth slowly down the Lion’s body to where the rose was stuck between the wide gaps in his flimsy chainmail, thorns digging into the naked skin below with no shirt in the way. He licked away the single bead of blood that appeared as he pulled it away, and the Lion shivered.

From there, he was already perfectly situated to unlace the Lion’s trousers and pull them down slowly. Lion shuddered and leaned against a dark tree as Russ’ mouth closed around his erection.


	3. My Gay Werewolf Pirate Lover, chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel bit to [nighthaunting's Russ/Lion romance novel AU](http://nighthaunting.tumblr.com/post/80656374741/my-gay-werewolf-pirate-lover-russ-lion)  
> Russ/Lion, pirate romance novel AU [PG-13]

By the time night fell, Lion told himself he was resigned. It was not too late for Russ to turn his fleet around and turn his cannons on Caliban out of spite if he took exception. He’d known he was offering his freedom; if his body was demanded as well, he could hardly betray the village who had taken him in by refusing. If he could refuse, with a man not just as strong as he and more accustomed to violence, but one with a whole crew at his beck and call.

He made himself sit on the bed when Russ returned to his cabin, ignoring the parts of him that urged him to hide, not that even a captain’s quarters were large, or to attack, escape. He was a sacrifice, not a captive.

Russ’ bed was piled high with the furs of wolves and bears, vast northern breeds, and some he didn’t recognise, like huge otters, and blankets of exotic patterns and materials, wools and linens and velvets and silks, or so he’d heard stories describe. It sank under Lion, but he resisted the urge to stroke soft fabric while anyone could see.

The man himself kicked off his boots and pulled off his shirt, revealing a broad and muscular chest, hairy and tanned from the sun. The coins braided in his hair jangled as he shook his mane back.

Lion braced himself as Russ’ hot gaze fell on him. He didn’t want to meet his eyes. His time in the forest told him that was a threat, a challenge. Russ was already going to take what he wanted.

As bold as his kiss earlier, Russ pushed him on the bed. Lion went, trying not to show his heart was pounding frantically, trying not to flinch away from Russ’ hands exploring his chest and arms, kneading into the muscle there.

After a minute, Russ pulled back with a frown. ‘It’s not going to be nearly as much fun if you lie back and think of fish.’

‘I’m sorry I’m not enthusiastic enough about being pawed at as all the maidens you have swooning over you,’ he snapped. ‘I’m yours. Do what you want.’

‘Always.’ Russ pulled back but grinned again. ‘It’s no fun to hold you down if you’re not going to fight back. And I remember how you smelled earlier. I’ll wait. When I do take you, I want it to be because you beg me for it. I want you shaking and straining for more under me. I want you to want me so much you can’t think of anything else. Only then I’ll make you mine.’

Lion felt a shudder run through him, though he didn’t know why. ‘Should I leave, captain?’

‘No.’ Russ slung a possessive arm over the curve of his collarbone and nuzzled his neck. Lion stopped himself from flinching at the teeth so near his throat, and from shivering at the strange sensations they brought. ‘I like my bed kept warm. And call me Leman when we’re like this.’

‘Lion el’Jonson.’

Russ laughed. ‘So what I got was a ship’s cat.’ He laughed even harder, explaining. ‘Your face, kitten.’

‘Don’t call me that.’

‘Only if my kitten shows claws.’

Lion felt he should be insulted Russ didn’t wait to see if he’d strike. The Pirate King sprawled across his bed with the total confidence of a lord in his domain, and Lion reminded himself he wouldn’t have been able to see the stars under the thick canopy of the forest either.


	4. Lie Back and Think of Terminator Armour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realised it would be a perfect setting for writing non-angst Dorn/Sigismund. Horus/Dorn, Dorn/OMCs and OFCs, Russ/Dorn, Perturabo/Dorn/Curze, Dorn/Sigismund [NC-17]

_Tactical Dreadnought armour,_ Dorn thought to himself, drawing out the term for what was more commonly referred to as Terminator suits. Horus ran another finger against his entrance and slowly worked it inside, bringing a groan to Dorn’s lips. _Paying for Tactical Dreadnought armour._

Horus’ smooth thumbnail brushed against his stretched muscles, and his body tried to jump but he couldn’t move at all when what he was feeling was too much already. He wasn’t sure if he would have pressed away or towards the touch, or, more to the point, didn’t want to think about his suspicions on the matter. The tone of his thoughts had changed, from a chant of reasoning and requirement to reassurances that sounded a bit too much like excuses to him, that he was doing this for well thought out and not lustful or hedonistic reasons at all. _Tactical Dreadnought armour,_ he told himself at the curl of fingers deep inside him, only getting deeper.

*

First it was jello, then he could never eat a banana again. He didn’t really want to add to that list, but was starting to worry fruit was going to be a running problem. Not even un-suppressing his memories of that time with the chocolate fountain. _Ration bars,_ he told himself.

He and Guilliman were lounging in togas that, well, at least covered some of them. The young women and men dancing, and getting their hands all over each other, were entirely naked, as were those feeding him grapes.

Guilliman let out a contented moan at the massage he was getting, though when Dorn looked over at where his brother was lying on his stomach he saw that the massage had moved rather lower than it had been.

A grape was ‘accidentally’ dropped so that it rolled across the contours of his body and came to rest between his thighs and a young man leaned down to retrieve it with his mouth. Dorn wondered if primarchs really _needed_ vitamins and if there were ways to do so that wouldn’t trigger awkward erections with memory.

*

 _Bikes,_ he told himself as Russ tore at his clothes, knees digging into his chest and compressing the ceramite plates. _Rhinos. We can’t all show off how we like ignoring millennia of military progress in favour of mistaking draft animals and scent hounds for efficient transport vehicles,_ he continued, articulating each thought as clearly and precisely as possible with every drop of will he possessed. _Land Ra--_ Russ’ fangs sank into his shoulder and back arched and hips pressed upwards. _Fuck just hurry up yes Leman._

*

‘Who would have guessed stoic Rogal Dorn would be such a slut?’

Dorn couldn’t reply with Perturabo’s cock in his mouth, but Curze did. ‘It’s always the repressed one. Hypocrites. Want to act all virtuous about what everyone else is doing when they’re not, but really like it filthy.’

He wanted to argue, but it was difficult to formulate debate even silently when his mind kept returning to how heavy and hot Perturabo was on his tongue, how good he tasted and how hard he was, scraping Dorn’s throat with each thrust of his hips.

 _Stormbirds,_ he told himself, _drop pods._

‘You love this,’ Curze whispered in his ear, draped across his back, nails digging into his hips deep enough to scrape against bone as he drove into him.

Dorn couldn’t stand to argue when he wasn’t sure he’d be telling the truth.

*

One of the Sororitas, straddling his chest to oil his left bicep, moved his arm over so his palm was covering her heavy breast and curling around her side with a wicked and bold gleam in her eye.

She was soft and squishy over her muscle in ways that invited touch, and he could feel her getting wet through the press of their bare, gleaming skin.

He made a squeaking sound less dignified than he’d have liked when one of the other women brushed her small hand against his balls as she oiled his thigh.

‘You really are as adorable as they say,’ said the prioress with his head in her lap in between leaving carmine dye from her lips on his face.

 _Who says?_ he wondered, and, _After the... adult film work... would have been bad enough, but how am I going to look her in the face next time we’re using those flamers and meltaguns we’re earning money for after_ that _?_

*

‘Am I a good boy?’ Sigismund asked, a little too quiet, a little too deep in his throat. Too much real need for his primarch’s reassurances.

‘You’re a very good boy.’ This was not the right context, but he did take great pride in his favourite son.

‘I want it harder, Daddy. Love how your cock feels inside me, so much.’

He really should have taught Sigismund to not say things like that, he was sure he had meant to, but unfortunately he was aware what he had done was taught him to be honest.

Sigismund felt wonderful in turn; more than the heat or tightness around him, he couldn’t help but enjoy how much Sigismund was obviously enjoying this, his eagerness and genuine longing, how much he cared and wanted to be wanted.

‘Anything.’

Sigismund’s look of utter ecstasy and contentment to be in his arms was repayment enough.


	5. Sigismund gets around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently the plot of this one is: a bunch of primarchs do Sigismund. He has fun, and Dorn watches and tries not to be jealous. NSFW

Sigismund’s eyes kept returning to him, even when moments before he had seemed quite _distracted_ by what he was doing (or who was doing him, to be more crude and specific). Dorn couldn’t stop staring, mouth dry and hot arousal curling in his belly.

He hadn’t known what to expect, just how he’d react, when he’d read the script for this film. Now he knew. No disgust or anger. Perhaps jealousy, and certainly a deep desire to be the one holding him and running his hands down his son’s scarred skin. He was so beautiful, (always) here, twisting in pleasure, totally overwhelmed by the onslaught of a primarch’s attention. Without a doubt he was enjoying himself, and without a doubt it was a candle to a star compared to how he looked at Dorn, if he’d thought for a moment his jealousy was rational.

At least Sanguinius didn’t take exception to it the way Fulgrim or Horus or some of the others would have at the very suggestion of someone they were with having a single thought other than them. Sanguinius shot Dorn a smile that showed a hint of fang, but he was careful with Sigismund as he returned his attention to the Astartes.

He kissed across Sigismund’s chest and sucked at his nipples with just enough hints of teeth to tease, but carefully didn’t draw blood, even though it was no secret from previous films both of them would like it that way. Sanguinius held back, in Dorn’s experience, and while he might have let go with one of his brothers (Dorn himself for that matter), not with someone breakable, and not with his primarch here to fret.

Sanguinius stroked Sigismund’s leaking erection as he moved inside him, holding himself far enough away the cameras could get very good angles of them, and this late into the shoot all Sigismund could do in return was reach around dig his fingers into the muscles where the Angel’s wings met his shoulders and thrust his hips up into the attention he was being given. ‘Such a good boy,’ Sanguinius said softly, genuinely, appreciatively, and bent down to kiss him.

He was, Dorn agrees, always, and he was gorgeous like this, spread open and taking dick. If there was a movie script he was grateful for, it was the one where Dorn supposedly walked in one Sigismund secretly jacking off to one of his videos. It’d let Sigismund admit to him between takes he really had watched all of the films he was in, and Dorn could give him the punishment he worried he deserved within the confines of cinematic make-believe, and, holding him afterwards, tell him he’d seen all of Sigismund’s too. (And it was more than a professional or protective instinct, of course it was, to see him sexy and confident and enjoying himself so much.)

Sigismund returned the kiss eagerly, basking in the attention and praise. Dorn thought he made his feelings clear in the understated way he did anything, and of course anyone who knew him well would be able to compare with his normal behaviour, but he did envy sometimes his brothers who seemed so free and easy with affection, Sigismund’s confident swagger for the world to see.

And there it was, an arrogant grin as Sanguinius’ thrusts sped up and he finished inside Sigismund, he pride he took in what he did to people and how easily and naturally it came to him to be desired, how much it felt like winning.

When Sigismund was finally carried over and deposited at his side, he was curled into a ball of exhaustion and rested his head against Dorn’s chest without asking permission like he normally would. Dorn couldn’t resist the urge to check him over for hidden injury, even knowing better, and didn’t allow himself any reactions Sigismund could interpret as negative at the smell of others’ sweat and come on him, as his fingers found the marks left on him, the stickiness of semen dripping down his legs and drying on his stomach, the taste of it when they kissed.

( _Fulgrim petting Sigismund’s hair indulgently as the Astartes sucked him. Sigismund whining deep in his throat, on his knees and elbows with his ass in the air as Ferrus pressed a silver thumb into him. Sigismund’s hands tearing sheets as Russ pounded into him from behind, but every broken word to that passed his lips comprehensible was an encouragement. Lorgar pulling back at the end to come across Sigismund’s face and lick it up afterwards; the way the light caught a perfectly formed droplet caught on an eyelash. Jaghatai wrapping his tongue around each of his fingers in turn. Sigismund twisted up to suck transient bruises onto Guilliman’s neck, while he cupped the curve of the Imperial Fist’s ass. Vulkan’s hands resting on the sharp blades of his hips while he took him into the heat of his mouth. Horus pulling Sigismund down onto him and again until he was shivering and begging and coming untouched._ )

Sigismund was his, but neither of them were made to say mine and only mine, yours and only yours.

‘I’m all ready for you, my lord. I’ve been waiting for you,’ Sigismund offered, but acknowledging Dorn’s right to turn him down. Dorn couldn’t, not with the hope in his voice half shy and half anticipation, and clear want.

It was the easiest thing in the galaxy to slide Sigismund all the way down onto his cock with how stretched and wet he was. He trembled with overstimulation around him, but smiled against his skin and made sweet little breathy moans. Dorn liked this position, because with his first captain sprawled across his chest, he could wrap both arms around him tightly without worrying about crushing him with his weight.

‘I was waiting too. I’ve wanted you so much,’ he said, when _I love you_ felt too intimate for the cameras and the audience today, when it would sound like he just meant the sex so he’d rather not dilute the words.

It felt more right, more complete than anything to be there, inside his first captain and holding him close, content without needing any more friction or worrying about an orgasm himself, Sigismund already asleep against his shoulder.


	6. Perturabo/Sigismund hatesex WIP

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> something something porn movie excuse plot where Sigismund was in command at the Battle of Phall and was captured

Perturabo hated him. The best. Of course Dorn had to get the best. Oh, there was Horus’s Abaddon and Curze’s Sevatar and Sanguinius’s Amit who were exceptional, but Sigismund, Sigismund was the _best_. And now he was Perturabo’s to possess, to hold down and despoil.

Almost as good as Sigismund was the immediate feedback of Dorn himself frowning, arms crossed, out of the view of the camera. Perturabo had fucked Dorn before, but that Dorn liked as much as he hated himself for liking it. This was fucking what Dorn loved most.

“You should have stayed home, boy. You should have never tried to match your strength against mine. I am iron. I will win.”

“I had to fight. I will do my duty. If my life is forfeit, then take it.”

“I can think of better use for you.” Perturabo ran a thumb across Sigismund’s sneering lips, holding his chin in place.

Sigismund held his gaze, defiant, as Perturabo claimed his mouth brutally. He didn’t fight as much as he could have, though. It was defiance for form’s sake, while he acknowledged his loss, for all that he was an Imperial Fist. If victory was denied him, he would accept with stoicism what he got. Perturabo didn’t want that.


	7. Eccentric snippet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this was supposed to be part of the lead-in to the Ultraorgy

It was a solid theoretical, Guilliman admitted it. It was certainly... eccentric that his father had decided to finance the war effort by sale of adult entertainment, but it had its benefits. People would certainly fall over themselves to give them money, compared to quotas and tithing that left resentment behind.

He didn’t mind getting naked. He didn’t mind the sex; sex was enjoyable. He wasn’t about to insist sex was only permissible between people who were in love or for the purpose of procreation or what have you. He simply maintained certain standards that any film he appeared in make at least some effort to establish the sex as consensual, respectful, and mutually pleasurable. While there were some of his brothers who he might have been inclined to argue with about the wider social implications of not holding to those standards in pornography, somehow the conversation would always descend into kinkshaming Dorn, and better not to open that can of worms.


End file.
